


The Perfect Tree

by Raven_is_blue



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Christmas traditions, Derek Hale is a Christmas Baby, M/M, Ribbons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_is_blue/pseuds/Raven_is_blue
Summary: It's not as he will be alone at Christmas. He has his tree. But unexpected guests came not only with food.





	The Perfect Tree

**Author's Note:**

> To [Akashne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akashne), who is the best alfa reader you can have, who asks the best questions and her constant faith in me is inspiring, thank you! 
> 
> To [Erulisse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erulisse17), who is the best. Simply. The best. Thank you!

It wasn't a perfect tree.  To be honest, it wasn't even a very good tree. It was small, a bit too round, full of tangled branches on the bottom half, and somehow empty-ish at the top. Really, not the best tree in the world, but Derek looked at it with pride swelling his chest.

He found that tree himself, he took it home, carefully transplanted into the bright orange pot and now, here, in his little cottage in the middle of nowhere, it was just the tree and him and nobody to judge their imperfections.

The last few arrangements, a flick of the switch, and his little tree lit up with a myriad of rainbow lights. Ok, so it was sixty lights at most, but it felt like a myriad. The tree was almost perfect like this. Derek watched his little happy tree for a moment and then he reached for a paper bag with the "All Tied Up Crafts" logo on it.

He cracked a smile when he remembered how shocked Mrs. Bell was when he set his purchase on the counter. He was sure that plump sexagenarian really wanted to snap a picture of him and his multicolored whirl of ribbons, probably to post it with some caption like "Rainbow Lumberjack". She would. He knew that. Now, almost hesitant, he took red lace from the bag and tied it in a crooked bow on one of the branches. Derek smoothed lace with his finger and whispered, "I liked your lipstick, Erica". He thought the first one was the hardest. But  the rest of them weren’t any easier.

Hunter green satin for Allison. A velvet midnight blue bow for Boyd which he needed to tie twice and his hands trembled so much that, finally, he just tied a knot and left ribbon there. Light blue for Isaac. Sunny yellow for Laura. Derek let tears dampen steel grey cotton for his mom and dad. The black silk with white dots for Peter.

Derek almost laughed when he found that one. He was a Christmas child, so they had this big family gathering always on Christmas Eve. The tree, the elegant supper that always ended with cozy disaster and puppy piles, the carols, and the gifts. The next day was his, his birthday, but Christmas Eve was for family. Peter always was a little pretentious shit and he decided once that he wanted a silk, button-up shirt, and Talia, pregnant then and irritated beyond her limits, had no patience for gift shopping, so she just bought the first one expensive enough. It was silk, it had a designer name embroidered on it, and  was hideously ugly. When Peter unwrapped it and saw the silly polka dot pattern, he laughed and decided to wear that monstrosity at every family supper for a year. So, for Peter, the black silk with white dots and fond memories.

Golden satin for Sheriff. Purple with violet stars for Cora. Bright orange velvet for Stiles. Neon green for Jackson. Pink for Lydia.

Derek took a step back and watched his tree. Perfect. Lights and bows, imperfections and memories.

Tomorrow, Cora would skype to wish him a happy birthday and they will talk for a moment. Maybe he’ll crack a text to Peter with a half-assed "happy holidays". But now it's just his tree and him. So... he can indulge and make himself a hot chocolate. With a small mountain of mini marshmallows and rainbow sprinkles. Nobody to judge him. Aside from the tree, but it was just happy with its lights and rainbow of ribbons. And just then knocking on the door startled Derek from his pensive mood.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he had stopped listening, stopped watching for threats.

The first months in this cottage were hard. It was a small patch of no-man’s ( _no-wolf’s_ , his inner voice added in a very Stiles-ish manner) land, between territories of two packs. He was constantly alert, jumping at every sound, every movement. His wolf felt threatened and lonely, a lone wolf between two packs, an Omega without a family, without a pack, without an Alpha, so it fought everything and everybody, even itself. It took months before the wolf settled and let himself feel loose pack bonds with Cora and Peter, strong, steady presence of his Anchor. Even without being physically present, Stiles was always guarding Derek’s mind, so he didn't need an Alpha, he had no fear of going feral. It wasn’t great, but it was enough.

Now, months later, Derek felt so easy, so settled, so safe, that he was sleeping through most nights and didn't feel the need for constant vigilance. And now he had let his guard down and didn't hear whoever it was before they knocked at his door.

Stiles was older. It was his first thought after opening the door. He knew how much time has passed since he saw Stiles last. But… he was older. His hair longer and his shoulders broader (or he was tangled in so many layers that it seemed so), but his eyes were the same bright whiskey brown, his fingers long and always moving, his moles painting dark constellations on his cheeks and he smelled like home. At least, he smelled like home until  the delicious smell darkened and undertones of anxiety and doubt stood out with tangy sharpness at Derek’s silence.

"My dearest nephew!" Peter's voice snapped Derek into reality. "Do you mind if we come inside? It's a little cold and Stiles is a mere human, you know."

Derek winced. He was so focused on Stiles that he didn't see or hear his uncle. Or Sheriff, who waved mockingly.

"We brought food," Stiles said quietly. "But if you don't want us here, and I know I just showed up here without talking to you, not that you answer your phone anyway, but I could’ve texted you, and Peter said that it's your birthday tomorrow and I thought... anyway, I’ll talk to them and we’ll get out of your hair in a moment."

"Stiles? Shut up."

A small smile danced on Stiles' face.

  


He didn't have a table big enough for them all, so they just sprawled all over the couch, the lone overstuffed armchair, and the floor. The tree smelled like happiness, the food was warm and good, the company amazingly familiar. Peter and Stiles bantered about everything and nothing, their jokes too sophisticated and so off topic that nor Derek, nor Sheriff ( _call me Noah, son_ ) tried to keep up.

He felt happy and lazy, and not even a little surprised when Noah took Peter's hand and locked the door to Derek's bedroom. Maybe a year ago, he would be, but now their easy camaraderie spoke volumes about their relationship.

"They just fit, you know?" A fond smile brightened Stiles' eyes. "I never thought that Dad would find someone. I hoped, even tried to set him up with Melissa, but one day he told me about Peter. And they fit."

"I can see that." Derek watched Peter's ribbon. Black and white, silk and polka dots, somehow they fit. "Why are you here?"

"We had this tradition, you know. On Christmas Eve, Mom would bake and cook the whole day, Dad and I would take care of the tree, and then we would help her with making dumplings. Later, when the stars were high and bright, we would sit and eat this amazing supper - borscht, dumplings, fish, then cheesecake and poppy seed cake..." Stiles seemed lost in his memories.

"We would be full and happy, lazy and cozy. But Mom would help me with gifts. And it would be as amazing and beautiful Christmas Eve as ever. When she died..." The tears in Stiles' voice, his happy-sad tone, the memories freely shared, they all only pushed Derek more into his fond and everlasting infatuation as he gathered Stiles into his arms.

"Oh, you care, Der-Bear." Stiles smiled and Derek forgot how to breathe. "When she died, we stopped. No more Christmas Eve, no more family traditions. But last year, Peter told us about your birthday and your family traditions. It fits with us. And I wanted it. You know..."

"I know." He never thought that he would have it. Stiles was always too young, Derek was always too dark. Guilt and grief, anger and pain. It had never fit before. But now, now he dared to dream.

Sleepy brown eyes looked at him, long fingers cupped his jaw and he kissed Stiles. Chaste. A simple touch of lips. A promise.

"Happy birthday, Der-Bear".

It was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Ribbons and bows: This is a very old and nearly forgotten tradition, and not connected to any particular holiday or season. All you need is a tree and a ribbon.  
> The ribbon needs to be carefully chosen and needs to refer to a memory of the person you want to honor. The examples in the fic are red for Erica’s lipstick or Peter’s polka dot ribbon tied to the memory of his shirt.  
> Simply tie the ribbon to a branch, calling the person’s name, either out loud or in your mind. And that’s all - the tree will now remember them with you.  
> A yellow ribbon on a tree is a tradition that was revived and symbolizes “in memory of those who never came home”  
> ...  
> As to when this is set… no idea. Really, I just hate the 5th and 6th seasons, so, let’s say that Derek left, life happened, and it’s a few years later. Just like that.


End file.
